McKenna by Robert F. Clifton (best android ereader TXT) 📖

the blood at the scene”, said McKenna.

“If there was blood it couldn't have been a large amount. This man, from what I'm seeing died instantly from what we call a depressed fracture”, the doctor replied.

Sergeant Mckenna took out his notebook and wrote, injury and cause of death a depressed fracture

“Let's have Randy here undress the body. Then I can better examine and see if I have to make further determinations”, said the doctor.

“If you don't mind. Would you removed the right shoe?”asked McKenna.

When the shoe was removed and handed to the detective Mckenna reached inside and removed a five dollar bill. “Just as I thought. The homeless, destitute and wino's carry what little money they have in their shoes. Anyone living on the street know this. Since the money and shoe are intact that more or less eliminates a vagrant as a suspect. Thank you”. McKenna wrote the serial number of the bill in his notebook.

Once the body was disrobed the pathologist walked up to the gurney and with rubber gloved hands pushed and probed parts of the dead mans body. “There doesn’t appear to be any other broken bones or wounds. However there is what appears to be a splinter in the bridge of his nose. That probably is a result of falling face forward on the wooden boards of the boardwalk. Randy let's turn the body over so I can get a better look at the fracture”, said McIntyre.

With the body face down Doctor McIntyre examined the back, buttocks and legs of the cadaver. “Once again, no signs of broken bones or wounds. So, let's take a look at this skull fracture. Hmmmmn. What have we here? Randy, get me a pair of forceps”, said the doctor.

Armed with the forceps the pathologist entered the head wound and removed an object. He then walked to the sink and washed the blood off of what he was holding with the surgical instrument. After looking at what he had removed he said,

“Looks like what even hit him was either made of plexiglass or contained plexiglass. I assume you want this as evidence”.

“Yes, I do. We found the same thing at the crime scene”,

McKenna replied.

“Well, that's up to you to identify what was used to kill him. Are you staying for the autopsy?”, asked McIntyre.

“Not if you're confirming the cause of death to be a fractured skull”, Mckenna answered.

“Then, I guess we'll get on with opening him up”.

“I'll pick up your autopsy report later”, said Mckenna as he turned and left the morgue.

McKenna drove to the Garwood section of town, a place with housing projects and neighborhood taverns, where they still tossed sawdust of the floor and a city park where the homeless and winos spent most of the day panhandling or drinking cheap wine. It also was where the Mission House was located.

The Mission House was operated by some off shoot Protestant Church Group and it fed and provided clothing and a place to sleep at night for those without shelter on a daily basis.

The only problem was there were only fifty beds and the homeless were numbered in the hundreds.

When he entered the Mission House he was met by a long haired bearded man who said, “You don't look homeless. What do you want?”

Before he could answer McKenna heard a female voice say, “Can I help you?”

“Yes. I'm Detective Sergeant Kevin McKenna. I'd like to speak to someone in charge”.

“Come on back. I'm in the kitchen and I have things cooking on the stove. I can't come out there”.

McKenna followed the sound of the voice and then walked into the kitchen. There he saw a young woman. He judged her to be in her early twenties. She was petite with dark brown hair and brown eyes. She didn't use makeup. She didn't need it. Looking at him she said, “So Detective McKenna, what can I do for you?”

“Are you in charge here?”, he asked.

“At the moment. Actually, I'm a volunteer. My name is Whitney Nelson”.

“Well, Miss? Is it miss or Mrs.?”

“It's Miss”.

“Well Miss Nelson, we're investigating what appears to be a homicide. We have identified the victim as one Harvey Mason. I found the business card of the Mission House in his wallet. I'd like to know if he was here and when. If possible I'd also like to talk to anyone that might have known the man”.

Whitney Nelson wiped her hands on the apron she was wearing. “Good luck with that. Most of the men out there either fear the police or dislike the police. I guess they think that way from being either harassed by the police or being arrested as vagrants”, she said.

“What they consider harassment is moving them out of parks, boardwalk and beaches where they panhandle for money. Those arrested are usually trespassing when they sleep in the laundry rooms and hallways of apartment buildings.”

“They do that to get out of the cold. Be that as it may. I sincerely doubt if anyone out there will talk to you”.

“Well in that case I guess I'll have to talk to you”, Kevin replied.

“Then, I suggest you start with your questions”.

“Fine, what can you tell me about Harvey Mason?”

“Well, like many of the men he was an Army veteran.

I believe he served two tours in Iraq. As a result they said that he suffered from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

“When you say they, are you talking about the V.A. hospital?”

“No, I'm saying that's what others said he suffered from”.

“I see. The reason I asked was because I found a card showing that he was An outpatient at the Veterans Hospital in

Wilmington, Delaware”.

“I do remember that he had a problem getting there.

He couldn't afford to take a bus”.

“Did he have any enemies?”

“Yes, an unappreciative society”.

“Spoken like a true social worker”.

“Is that what you think I am? I told you I'm a volunteer here”.

“So you did. Why?”

“I could say why not. Instead I'll say I volunteer because when I was five years old my mother and I were homeless. A place like this took us in, gave us three meals a day and a place to sleep. They also gave me and address so I could go to school. So, this is my way of giving back”.

“Since you volunteer here, where else do you work?

“I'm a teacher at Garwood Elementary School. I teach third grade.

“Then, if I needed to get in touch with you again how would I do that?”

“I thought you said that you were a detective.”

“That would mean doing it the hard way. It would be a lot easier to just give me your address and telephone number”.

“Do you need them for professional or private reasons?”

“Both”

“Really, why?”

“Professionally for my report, privately because I'd like to get to know you better”.

“Are you hitting on me?”

“Yes, yes I suppose I am”.

“Well, at least you're honest. However, if you would really like to get to know me then you can find me here every Saturday and Sunday and the school Monday through Friday. Here, I'll be behind the counter serving meals”.

“Then, it looks like I'll see you on Saturday. What time?”

“I serve breakfast at seven”.

“And lunch?”

“We don't serve lunch. Supper is at four”.

“Then I'll see you at four on Saturday”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

The Puzzle

 

Kevin McKenna sat at his desk looking at the fragments of plexiglass taken at the scene and from the skull of Harvey Mason. Picking up the papers on the desk top he read again the reports submitted by the Forensic Unit. Basically, the report stated that the fragments had been tested for DNA with one matching the victim. The second sample was not matched with any DNA on file. A smudge on one shard of plexiglass appeared to be a partial fingerprint, but there was not enough loops and whirls to make up a valid print. At the time of testing no determination can be made of what the plexiglass evidence collected is or what it was before fragmenting. The wood splinter removed from the victims nose is yellow pine, the same type of lumber used in construction and maintenance of the Nautilus Beach Boardwalk.

After reading the report McKenna leaned back in his chair and continued to gaze upon the pieces of plexiglass. “What the hell is this stuff and what was it before it broke apart”? He asked himself mentally.

Detective John Collins seated at the desk next to McKenna watched Kevin who appeared to be deep in thought.

“Having a problem Mac?”, asked Collins.

“Just trying to figure out what this pile of glass use to be”, Mckenna answered.

“Mind if I take a look?”, asked Collins.

“Be my guest”.

Collins got up and walked over to the desk and leaned over in order to get a close look at the small pieces of evidence.

“Hmmmm. Beats me. Have you thought about putting it back

together?”, he asked.

“No, do you think it can be done?”

“We won't know unless we try”.

“What did you have in mind”,asked McKenna.

“It should be like putting a puzzle together. The question is do we have enough pieces to know what it is when we finish”.

“Let's hope so”.

“O.K. we're going to need an adhesive. Super glue should do it.”

“Do you have any?”

“Nope, but I'll go and get it. To be on the safe side I'll get three tubes.”

“O.K. while you're doing that I have to report to Captain

Myers.”

Sergeant McKenna knocked on the office door of Captain Carol Myers. At one time she had been the partner of Kevin's father Tom. She knew when Kevin had been born and was at his Baptism. Now, as she neared retirement she had witnessed Kevin's entrance to the police department, his transformation from patrolman to detective and his promotion to Sergeant. She had assigned him to the Harvey Mason case and was waiting for his initial report. “Come in”, she said.

“Good morning Captain”, he said.

“Good morning. Have a seat”, she replied.

“Let me start by saying I don't have too much”, said McKenna as he opened his small notebook.

“Suppose you just tell me what you do have and I'll judge the merit of your investigation”.

“Yes Mam. The victim is a Caucasian male approximately fifty years old. His only known address is Mission House here in Nautilus Beach. His cause of death according to the pathologist and medical examiner is a depressed fracture of the skull”.

“How bad was the fracture?”, asked the Captain.

“Bad. It was located at the rear of his skull. The pathologist referred to that area as the occipital bones. He also called them the four sided trapezoidal which is the back of the skull or the base”.

“I see. Go on”.

“This is just my opinion, but who ever struck Mason used a great deal of force”.

“How do you come to that opinion?”

“Because of the amount of damage to the skull”.

“Let me stop you right there. You are aware that the skull of humans can be at times as hard as concrete or as weak as the shell on a hard boiled egg. Did the pathologist inform you of the type of skull the victim had?”

“No Mam”.

“Then I advise you not to render your opinion on Mr. Mason's skull. Should we make an arrest let the pathologist make that statement. Go on”.

“The victim appeared to have been struck with enough force that he fell face forward resulting in a wood splinter piercing his nose”.

“Interesting. Do you have a murder weapon?”

“No. However, I did find shards of clear plexiglass about eighteen inches behind the feet of Mr. Mason. Doctor McIntyre found a piece of the same material imbedded in the victims skull”.

“Do you have any idea what the plexiglass came from?”

“No Mam. Not yet. Collins and I are planning on trying to

piece together what fragments I have hoping to get and idea of what was used as a weapon”.

“Alright. How much do we know about Harvey Mason?”

“Not too much. He was an army veteran and a patient at one time at the Veterans Hospital in Wilmington Delaware he evidently slept and ate at the Mission House located in Garwood.”

“Do you have any suspects?”

“No, but I ruled out